Over the Moon (But No Cows Jumping)

For a long time now Eddy hasn't been growing very well.  He was a big baby at birth (9lb 10oz) but at the age of about seven weeks his growth seemed to tail off.  I wasn't too worried.  He had begun to sleep through the night (not fair, I know, but Gilby took over two years to perform this feat, so I feel like I've done my time).  The health-visitor was not impressed and suggested that I wake Eddy up to feed him in the night.  "But he sleeps through!  Why would you want to wake a sleeping baby?" I protested. 

"Perhaps he's too weak to wake himself up?" she suggested.

I nearly exploded with indignation.  Eddy, of the three, is by far my happiest, smiliest, most contented baby.  There couldn't possibly be anything wrong with him.

Aged 12 weeks

By about ten weeks, the health professionals were suggesting that I give him formula.  "But I have plenty of milk! He feeds very well. Isn't it good to breastfeed your baby?  It worked for the other two..."

Of course, I knew better, and ignored this advice until it was time to return to work and I needed to give Eddy formula.  As he began weaning he displayed a very healthy appetite, and never rejected a single food, often demanding 'seconds' right from six months.  Nothing wrong there, then.  Except that he continued to show poor weight gain until he dropped off the bottom of the chart.  He also didn't seem to want to sit up.  In an effort to get as much fat as possible into his diet, I frantically grated cheese into every meal I prepared for him.

Eventually we were referred to a consultant paediatrician.  I had to concede that there was a problem.  Various tests ensued.  None of which we have had the results for as yet.  Suddenly it all got a little bit scary. 

The consultant suggested that we eliminate dairy products entirely from Eddy's diet for 6-8 weeks, in spite of establishing that he never seemed uncomfortable after meal times, or displayed any of the classic symptoms of having a cow's milk allergy.  So we have a prescription formula free from cow's milk, and all dairy has gone from his diet.  No more manic cheese-grating.

Three weeks in and Eddy has jumped a percentile on the weight charts.  When I say 'jumped a percentile' what I actually mean is that he now registers somewhere on the chart instead of hovering below it in the blank space of nothingness.  He has also, aged eight months, learned how to sit unaided. 

Could it really be as simple as that?  We won't know for sure for a little while longer, but, fingers crossed!

Go Bananas!

I go back to work next week, so perhaps leaving it until now to try Eddie on the bottle might be described as a tad underprepared. His siblings never had a problem switching to the bottle though, so I wasn't really worried.

However, ahem, it appears that Eddie is a little less amenable to the switch than they were. The first three times were 'firm' refusals. Not even polite, if I'm honest. Today there was a small breakthrough as he at least took a few gulps before clamping his mouth firmly shut.

But the bigger news is that he has had his first 'solids' (if mushed banana can be described as such). Up until now he has shown no interest, in spite of being a poor, undernourished little fellow (currently at 22 weeks barely scraping the first percentile on the dreaded charts in spite of his MASSIVE birth weight).

But lunchtime brought success. The first mouthful was a little tentative; the second came straight back out, but the third, fourth and fifth were much more successful, and the rest of the bowl couldn't come quickly enough.

"Mummy, look, banana is his favourite,' declared Gilby, watching his younger brother eat for the first time. I didn't like to point out that it was the only thing he's ever eaten, so at least for now Gilby is correct.